Page 25 of Beyond the Stix

Focusing on what I need to do, I head to my mother’s room and knock.

“Come in,” Mom calls in a meek voice.

Stepping inside the room, I close the door and call out, “Are you alright?” Seeing my mom sitting on the bed, I sit next to her and pull her in for a hug.

“I will be. Promise.” She sniffles. “Are you coming with me to the funeral home?” she asks, looking up at me.

“I was thinking that you can stay here and rest, and I’ll go,” I suggest, but by the frown set on her tired face, she isn’t having it.

She pulls out of my arms and straightens her spine. “If you think for one second that I will let you go there alone, well—well you’re not thinking straight.” Then her eyes widen. She covers her lips with her fingers, before she erupts into laughing. “I’m so sorry.”

“Mom.” I hug her again. “The last time I thought straight was when I was in third grade, before Mr. Samuel walked in the gym with his short-shorts on and I can?—”

She slaps a hand over my mouth. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Connor Bradford Wild.” She drops her hand and lets loose another round of laughter. “Samuel was a young handsome man. And gay.”

`My mouth drops open at my mother’s words. “What? Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m telling the truth.”

“How do you know that?” I can’t believe my own mother kept that secret. The man was my crush for the longest time.

“Don’t you worry about that. It’s a shame though. Samuel kept it a secret about a year, before that jerk principle let him go for some ridiculous reason,” she explains, while wiping thewetness from her cheek. “That man was the biggest homophobic jerk.”

“Mom!”

“What? I’m human.”

I shake my head and chuckle. “So, you mean all of my wet dreams…”

“Connor,” she scolds, squeezing my arm.

“Just kidding, Mom. I barely knew what jacking off meant back then.”

“Oh, my goodness.” She snorts. “Well, now I feel a little better. Let’s head to the funeral home. Can you please grab your father’s good black suit from the closet?”

“Doesn’t he only have one good suit?” Opening the bi-fold door, I smell Old Spice mixed with my mother’s perfume. Scanning the space, I spot the only suit in the closet.

“He does,” she said with a bit of solemnity.

I reach for the suit that’s hanging in a plastic dry-cleaning bag. Just by chance, I glance up and catch sight of a brown shoe box covered in stickers. On the side is my name, written in my chicken-scratch, childish printing. I’d forgotten all about it, but all this time, my parents had kept it.

“Did you find it?” She sticks her head inside the closet.

“Yeah.” I snag the suit and walk out, mentally penning a reminder to ask my mother later why she has my treasure box.

EIGHT

Connor

During our meetingwith the funeral director, my mother calls the deacon of their church, and it’s decided that the wake and burial will happen in two days.

And what a long two days of waiting it is.

Thank Christ, Tobias contacted Dean, who in turn called the local police department. Between them and our security team, the wake is a quiet event. The drive to the cemetery is hectic, especially pulling up to the gates and seeing a slew of paparazzi camped outside of it.

Though, I don’t know what’s worse, spotting the photographers attempting to climb over the metal fence, or seeing the drones flying over my father’s grave site as they lowered Dad’s casket into the ground. Without the police or our bodyguards, I imagine it would have been an even bigger nightmare.

By the end of the ceremony, I’m emotionally gut-punched. The lowest point was when Jessup tried to stand by Mom and me. Thankfully, our security team made it impossible for him.